Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Of Punching Tigers and a Crouching Dragon


"Hook, hook, round house, squat! Doubles, shuffle, squat-thrust, jack!" Such were the commands fired at Nero as I succumbed in a near-fatal kickboxing class this past Monday. Floors were slick and weighted punching bags unyielding as lead pontoons. Meanwhile, on all sides svelte weekday warriors sporting single-digits care of Lululemon scissor-kicked through the air -- soaring cranes, knuckle-duster-bedecked S&M geishas. Surely the rugged gladiators of yore, surrounded by blood-tinged ring, were dealt a softer blow when faced with jagged mesh, nine-tailed cat and torn flesh. For there is no indignity, no prison quite like the limitations of the human body -- which, while noble and perfect in theory, brings with it heft and inconvenient protrusions and perspiration tinged with last night's minced garlic medley, not to mention the downward pull of meteor-like mental baggage. To add insult to torn sinew, Nero is no newbie to the burn. Regular readers may recall this new year's reso-delusion and its wailing wheeled follow-up. Still, the drills got the better of this blogger fair Nerophytes -- an imaginary bell started clanging in my head signaling a fingerless glove TKO. And so a dragon, fresh out of steam, crouched. A sticky Icarus folded melting wings and free fell.  Atlas took one look at her lightening-swift neighbor fluttering in fluo trainers and shrugged. But fret not for all is not lost dear ones. Nero plans to return to the field refueled, full of fire and ready to rally and conquer next Monday...or maybe not.


Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Up at the Villa

In this month's WSJ Magazine, our own decor oracle Rita Konig shares the wealth with a tony list of her favorite private homes-turned-hotels, scattered across the globe. For more of this cavalleria rusticana and a drool-inducing slideshow, drop your bags and reach for a warm towel here


Saturday, August 27, 2011

Sitting Sunny by Sally

Houston design diva Sally Wheat has recently added a peppy new space to her portfolio. Here cheer is both shaken and stirred care of zingy flame stitch, organic textures juxtaposed, touches of turquoise and a trippin' lemony pouf. The result is a fresh living room that feels gender-friendly and sophisticated enough for swanky entertaining or a round of late-night gaming. Once again, fair Nerophytes, Sally delivers with punch.



Unleashing the Noir in Nero

Because at the root of this story, lies always that heart of darkness.



Friday, August 26, 2011

On Amanpour and a Home Well-Anchored

For those of us minions who once dreamed of a life of journalistic conquest from behind the dull glow of a screen, on an underpaid news producer's desk in the wee hours before the morning broadcast, no one cut quite the heroic figure -- all effortless-looking coif and belted safari jacket -- like Christiane Amanpour. 
Because there's really no denying that over the decades, this woman has consistently rocked harsh terrain and political unrest -- often under a rain of live ammunition -- all the while charming ornery ole dictators like no one's business. And although Nero cringes at generalizations, people with interesting lives tend to have interesting homes, as evidenced by this piece on Amanpour and her New York City roost in the latest installment of the WSJ magazine.
Be sure to peruse the interactive graphic that clocks Amanpour's bustlingly high-profile yet understatedly glam day. Judging from the thoughtfully-edited array of ethnic throw pillows displayed on her neat white seating arrangement below, it should come as no surprise that this lean leading lady of media keeps fighting fit by lunching on prosciutto over pineapple chased with a spritz of Pellegrino. 



Here's to a Mellow Meli-Melo

May your weekends be an equally cheerful mishmash, fair Nerophytes.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

On Free Associations and Matchmaking

Perhaps it's the twin textured walls or the shared splashes of mauve.
 Whatever the case, methinks these rooms should meet and mate.


Welcome

Urban flâneuse, armchair observer, absent-minded scribbler, occasional epicure and carpool line cultural attaché, my nom de plume is Nero. Join me as I catalog a compilation of earthly delights and stuff that I dig. Alcira Molina-Ali

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